Losing Faith
by YouLowerTheIQofTheWholeStreet
Summary: "I'll just miss you. A lot"
1. Chapter 1

"Don't be an idiot"  
Sherlock was laughing, his lips pulled into a slightly manic smile.  
"You aren't going into the army, you'll die." He shook his head again, still sitting, albeit rigidly, his feet on John's lap.  
The other man was sighing, running his fingers through his short blonde hair as if this was taxing on him.  
John was still absently running the pad of his thumb over Sherlock's bony ankle, and he watched him with a slightly concerned expression.  
"I told you I enlisted months ago." "You never said anything was sorted" was the sharp response.  
"I told you. And they want to ship me off for more basic training first, then I'll be up and out" he murmured gently. "Hell, they years will go so fast, I'll be back before you know it."  
Sherlock grimaced at these words and huffed, closing his eyes. "Don't lie to me, John. That won't help either of us. Especially if you hurt yourself. Or worse".  
He watched John's calm expression falter, and immediately felt guilty. Sherlock sat up, shifting on the bed until he was lying on his side, before pulling John down with him and tangling their legs together, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.  
"Sorry. I'll just miss you. A lot"  
"I know."  
"And, you know, if we write…if we keep contact you might not-"  
"-might not what?"  
"Don't forget me"  
"Shut up"

John silenced Sherlock's feeble protest with a more passionate kiss, his leg slotting between Sherlock's longer ones, pulling him closer.  
"Now, seeing as this is our last night to do so for a while, make the most of it, Sherlock Holmes".  
He didn't need asking twice and he hummed, pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind as he licked over John's jaw, sliding his hands under the mans' shirt, his fingers tracing a pattern over his chest.

Their bodies tangled, sweat combining as they writhed together on the bed, the sheets and duvet lying desolate in a crumpled heap on the floor, nothing between them, nothing guarding them as they panted each other's names.


	2. Chapter 2

"You've got enough time to change your mind"  
"My plane leaves in ten minutes"  
"That's plenty enough"  
"Sherlock."  
"I know"  
John sighed and closed his eyes, his forehead resting against Sherlock's. "Check up on Mum and Harry sometimes" he whispered, relaxing when he felt the other man nod, just slightly.  
He could feel their eyes on them, Mrs. Watson was a sodden mess, clinging to Harry watching as her only daughter dramatically waved a snot-ridden tissue in his direction, an action she'd been desperate to mimic since she watched the railway children.

They'd already said their goodbyes, and they were the only thing that stopped him from practically melting into Sherlock, much to the couples' dismay.  
He pressed a last, meaningful kiss to Sherlock's lips, squeezing his hand and waving to his family before he walked from them, handing in his ticket and moving to board the plane, not daring to look back.

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat as John walked out of sight and he silently moved to the airport window, watching until it left the ground.  
He stumbled back slightly, as if he had been hit by a sudden force, and quickly made his excuses to John's family, promising he'd visit soon before he wandered back through the airport and into the car Mycroft had undoubtedly sent to wait for him.

**_Dear Sherlock,_**

_My first letter! Not my first attempt, I'm afraid, I tried to send one a couple of weeks ago, but it got sent back, no idea why._  
_I think I'm settled now, as much as I can be. The lads are nice, helped me out when I was still getting used to things._  
_I hope you're well, and not doing anything too stupid._  
_How're Mum and Harry?_  
_I don't have much to tell you yet, so I'll sign off here._  
_I miss you._  
_Yours,_

_John._

**_John,_**

_I'm glad you're settled, I suppose._  
_It's something if I can't have you here. Tell me everything you can, I don't like being in the dark about this sort of thing._  
_Harry's good, as is your mother._  
_They both send their best wishes, Harry says she wants a present when you come back and visit._  
_University is as dull as it ever was. I have a new roommate, Victor. They replaced you as quickly as you left._  
_He's alright, he's just as mediocre as the rest of the place._  
_I miss you too._  
_Yours,_

_Sherlock._

**_Sherlock,_**

_I don't know what to tell you, it's difficult but I've been writing daily logs so I've attached copies of them._  
_Tell Harry I can get her a jar of dirt or sand – her choice, and a can of spam._  
_She'd better be grateful, eh?_  
_Keeping working at the University thing, I know you enjoy some of it, you're just a drama queen._  
_Victor, eh?_  
_Maybe give him a chance, there's nothing to lose and I'd feel better if I knew you had a friend there with you._  
_I'll write soon, it might take a month or so._  
_Yours,_

_John._

**_John,_**

_I read through your logs._  
_Can you send me those regularly? It's reassuring._  
_Harry is surprisingly happy with that deal, she's been telling everyone at class about it._  
_She's popular at the moment, apparently she's made friend with a girl called Clara, or something like that._  
_Yes, yes. I'll keep going to University._  
_We're on a break at the moment, Victor's invited me to stay round his for a week or so. I believe it'd be more interesting than staying at Mycroft's so I might just take him up on the offer._  
_Happy?_  
_I suppose he's not that bad._  
_Write soon._  
_Yours,_

_Sherlock._

**_Sherlock,_**

_Yeah, I'll send them as often as I can._  
_Apparently we'll be getting Skype up soon, so we'll see if that's successful._  
_Ah, Clara. Harry's been pining over her since she was 6. Oh yeah?_  
_Well that'd be good, right? I'm glad you and Victor are getting on so well. I'm really glad._

_I was thinking that maybe we should go on a break, or something._  
_I love you, of course I do. It's just that Mum's been telling me about how you've been acting, and it seems like me being over here is making you sick._  
_I can't come back to help but maybe doing this from here will start to make you better._  
_I don't know, we'll see._

_Enjoy yourself,_

_John._

**_John,_**

_I know it's been more than a few months, but I wasn't sure what to say._  
_I'm not good with sentiment at the best of times. Victor kissed me._  
_I responded…not negatively. I didn't stop him._  
_I sort of, enjoyed it. I know that's bad and I'm sorry. I just…I miss you and I don't know what to do._  
_I know we said we should try not being together, but I didn't intend this to happen. I don't know what to do._

_Harry's sent you something she made, Mrs Watson is waiting for your next letter._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock._

**_Sherlock,_**

_I feel like I should be mad, but I'm not. I get it. It was my fault to begin with, anyway._  
_Who were we kidding? I've got at least three years left of service, we'd never have been able to last that with long-distance._  
_Just think of it that we'll just be friends, no bad feelings._  
_I still love you._  
_Don't throw your choice away with Victor, it might be the only one you get with him._

_Tell Mum and Harry I miss them. I miss you too, of course._

_John._

**_John,_**

_Really? Okay._

_How is the army, are you enjoying yourself?_  
_I miss you too by the way, shouldn't you be getting leave soon?_  
_I told Victor that I'd skip a few days at Uni when you were off, I want you to tell me everything._

_See you soon,_

_Sherlock._

**_Sherlock,_**

_I can't believe I've been here so long already._  
_I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, but you're right, I'm getting leave in a couple of months, so this will be my last letter until I see you._  
_That's a nice idea, but you don't need to feel obligated to._  
_I wouldn't say enjoy is quite the word, but it's good for me, I think. If you'd like to, you could meet me at the airport. I'll be getting in at 4.30 on the 28th April. See you then, I hope._

_John._


	3. Chapter 3

"He's only back for a couple of weeks, I need to see him as much as possible"

"You know, some would say you're still pining for him."

"Of course not, he's still my best friend. I haven't seen him for over a year."

Victor sighed, lying on his side beside Sherlock, his large body supported with his arm.

Sherlock glanced away from the eye contact, rolling his eyes and covering the slight guilt that he felt for leaving Victor to see John.

"You'll be fine, you'll actually get some work done for once".

Victor smirked slightly, running his fingertip over Sherlock's bare waist. "Not when I'm thinking of you like this" he whispered, his voice low and gravelly. "The sounds you made earlier. The_ expressions_ you made".

Sherlock shivered at the touch and the contact, and moved forward, crushing their lips together as he rolled over, hovering above the bigger man. "Stop distracting me" he muttered, slowly rolling his hips, smirking as Victor elicited a deep moan.

This had started with convenience, Victor wanted Sherlock and was kind to him, and Sherlock needed _anything_ to take his mind from John.

A distraction, as such. Without one, he was travelling down the road to being an addict, and not one willing to recover. He'd lost two stone from his already thin frame during the first few months of John's absence, and he deteriorated rapidly, spending a few boring weeks with Mycroft to recover so he could return to University.

He didn't love Victor, and he'd countered enough whispers of the words from the man that he'd finally given up trying to say it. He did love John, but it was different to how it was, not that he knew why, or how.

He looked at the man beneath him, utterly vulnerable. His raw lips parted slightly, his eyes heavy lidded, pupils blown as he stared up.

Sherlock hummed, still moving over him as he let his eyes wander over his torso; heavy built. Trim, but muscly. Able to take control, to stop Sherlock's mind from working to its full capabilities. That was a blessing. His hair short and dark, short enough to run your fingers through it without resulting in a traumatic experience for both parties.

As Sherlock leaned down, moving over Victor's neck and marking his skin, he continued his thoughts, barely paying attention to what he was even doing. John's skin, likely tanned from the heat, hands worn and calloused from all the work he had been doing. It was likely his body would be more trained, more athletic. Legs and arms more bulky, a firmer chest.

When he realised what he was doing, he was brought back to reality with Victor's mouth desperately pressed against his, and he found himself underneath the man as he slowly pressed into him without request. Sherlock moaned, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling, his legs wrapping around the mans waist.

"Fuck" he whispered, his tongue running over his own lips to whet them, glistening with saliva as Victor dove down, claiming them as his own. Five minutes in and Victor started speaking, Sherlock caught certain words and sentences but he was unfocused, hazy.

"Tell me what you want" he had whispered, his eyes watching the pale man beneath him as he thrusted into him at an uneven pace.

Sherlock was too taken with his imaginings, too distracted by his thoughts to realise what he had said before it was too late.

"I want you to fuck me harder, John".


End file.
